Running in Circles
by promiscuouspotato
Summary: "Frankly put – this wasn't how Jack and Merida treated each other, and it felt so terribly wrong." A Jarida oneshot I, frankly speaking, have had an abundant amount of muse for. Rated T for mild foul language.


It's an unusual setting.

People always did associate their friendship with joviality, amusing jest, the spark of summer and mischief of winter, but never..._this_. There was his coldness and her fiery passion now used for hatred rather than the standard, and it was uncharacteristically, unjustly not them. This…bitter indifference hardly mirrored their decade long friendship, hardly seemed reminiscent of paper planes chucked from one open window through another, _hardly_ looked like the product of booming laughter and cheerful competitive.

Frankly put – this wasn't how Jack and Merida treated each other, and it felt so _terribly _wrong.

_I didn't do anything wrong, _was the first thought that crossed Jack's defiant mind as he allowed Jamie to interlock an arm with his, newly declared couple walking down the town park. From the corner of his eye, he found a streak of blazing red zigzag across the street, and he didn't need to hear the rickety racket of the skateboard to know it was her. He had always known when it was Merida, but he was so much more used to the skateboard swerving towards him rather than desperately _away _from him.

"**Is everything alright?"** had asked Jamie, expectant hazel eyes glittering with innocence as her arm tightened gently around his, and all Jack had done was nod his head, small smile distracted, and resumed his way down the cobblestoned path.

And although he had been determined to be as infuriatingly stubborn as Merida, it had started to eat at him. The lack of contact, the adamant passive aggressiveness, and he knew not why she insisted on being mad at him. She _insisted _on acting like he was in the wrong, and although Merida lacked empathy in abundant bouts (stated his sour mind), she had never been this arbitrary in the past for absolutely no reason.

"**Hey, Merida…?"**

He wants to be crueler, he wants his voice to have a cutting undertone to it, but he just can't muster the hostility. How can he, when she sat in the swing, a stream of moonlight illuminating her shrub of aggressive red ringlets, shoulders hunched in…almost _defeat_? She still wears the bracelet around her wrist, he notices, now mildly annoyed at himself for the wave of relief that washed over him upon noticing the detail. Her body tightens almost immediately at his words, a voice she hadn't heard directed at her in almost two months, and he watches her intently as her head lifts, jaw set tight and eyes narrowed.

He doesn't take his gaze away from her.

**"I said I didn't want to talk to you, Jack,"** her words were gruff and curt, and she's staring right back at him. The rawness is pleasant, almost, stirring the nostalgia within him and being this close to her (all he had to do was leap forward a few strides and he'd be standing right next to her) made him so consciously uncomfortable. Jack resisted the urge to gulp, and observed how the moonlight traced the concavities of her cheeks, highlighting her strong cheekbones. Her full lips were pursed, and her eyelashes just seemed longer than the usually were. Or maybe he just hadn't seen her – like properly, eyes taking in every small detail – in ages.

"**But **_**I**_** want to talk to you,"** says Jack firmly, and the sternness in his tone, the mocking challenge lacing his words makes her rise from the swing immediately, arms crossed defiantly. The hem of her embroidered cotton skirt flutters lightly in the wind, straggly ends of her hair following suit, and she pulls her arms closer to her body, testing a step forward. **"I'm leaving,"** she says, before turning and taking a few steps away from him, sneakers plodding heavily against the muddy soil, but he extends his arm forward, fingers brushing against her shoulder. He feels the tingle, and so does she, for she pauses in her steps, breath heavily. **"What do you want, Jack?"** she questions wearily moments later, and Jack knows her idiosyncrasies well enough to guess this – she wanted to cry, good _Lord_ she wanted to cry, but she never, ever did cry in front of the perpetrator.

It just made her look weak.

And he hated knowing that, after years of being the one to comfort her, that she needed comforting _because_ of him. He thought of Jamie, sweet kind Jamie, with her soft voice and consideration and empathy and indomitable love for everyone, but it was this mulish idiot that he loved, _this mulish idiot _he was ready to sacrifice everything for, because that was just what friendship was, wasn't it?

When she turns though, the fact that he ached to count the freckles on her face with the tip of his fingertip and _ached_ to run a hand through her thick hair, didn't make his affections sound platonic at all, and he gulped, vibrant blue eyes meeting the same. But really, _now? _He was just done with trying to label what he felt for Merida. The fact that he felt (and how strongly he felt) for her was enough to want her back in his life, as _whatever, _but…simply put, _he missed her. _

**"I want to know what I did,"** he mumbles, though he had a feeling he already knew the answer.

She knew he did too, and a croaky chuckle left her throat, almost resembling a bark, and now she whirls around completely, eyes leveling upon his, and he can almost feel the anger waiting to explode. **"Nothing. You did…absolutely nothing, Jack, like…seriously. Bravo to you for doing absolutely **_**nothing **_**but still managing to make me crazy because that's what you do, Jack, you do nothing but people still manage to get annoyed with you and now I finally understand **_**why **_**Astrid doesn't like you much because rea-"**

"**You don't believe that,"** he's cutting her off, and God, does he know her well. His voice is serious, his words slow, **"You're not Astrid. You know me better than she does. I know you, Merida, maybe better than anyone else, and you don't believe that."**

"**Fine,"** she states, arms never uncrossing, and her expression is numbingly unreadable, **"If you do know me, 'maybe better than anyone else', what do you **_**think**_** you did, Jack?"**

And there's a long pause, eyes fiercely locked onto one another's, breaths heavily, the coldness of fall's breeze too chilly for one and not cold enough for the other. **"I did nothing,"** he breathes out with an air of finality, eyes finally breaking away from hers. They're cast downwards, and he's aware of how a sprig of silver grey hair falls awkwardly over his forehead. **"I…did nothing, when I should've. But I did something now, and I don't know why, but I did it. It's…not for you, God, it's not for you **_**at all **_**but it's more for her, more for her because she…she doesn't deserve this, does she?-"**

"What are you going on about?" and instantly, the wariness isn't there in her voice anymore, and he can detect hope, the sunshine he's so used to, and his eyes immediately snap up to meet hers, incoherent ramble cut short. **"I broke up with Jamie."**

"**I didn't fucking ask you to. Jamie's a nice girl."  
**

"**And I didn't fucking do it for you, didn't you hear me? I did it for her, because she deserves better. I didn't do it for you, because fucking hell, Merida, if I did do it for you, you would've punched me, right here and now. I did it for Jamie and…I did it for myself too."**

'**So, if this has fucking nothing to do with me, why am I supposed to care?"** Merida's words are blunt, and always cutting, and although he don't speak with a shred of his usual sarcasm, she speaks with her insensitivities. And it fucking hurts.

"**Because it does,"** he says finally, trying to keep his expression level (**trying** to mask the hurt) expelling a breath of nervous air. **"Because…as much as you fucking annoy me, Princess, and as much as I annoy you, you gotta admit, it sucks not having you in my life. I'll say it again – it's downright shit when you're not around, and it's downright shit because…you know you're important to me, right? And…I don't know what this is. What your jealousy is, what my insecurities are, what our friendship is supposed to be, but there's nothing I'd sacrifice you for. Heck, you can walk away from me right now and tell me that you're better off without me, but I know you so well, Merida, and I know those slouched shoulders meant something. Call me conceited, I'll take it, and call me a self obsessed idiot, **_**I know I am**_**. I know you're a stubborn, violent brat but I also know that…we…we **_**connect**_**. And I don't connect with anyone else as well as I do with you.**

**"So, like I said, I don't know…how to label what I feel for you, but it's strong, Merida. And maybe someday I'll be capable of telling it for what it is, but until then, I'd rather have you in my life than out of it. I..I love you, man."**

And he doesn't realize how close they're standing to each other now, tip of their sneakers touching and noses a hair's breadth apart, but all they do for those few seconds is consider each other thoughtfully, her eyes now soft with concern at his spiel, his hopeful with anticipation, and she says nothing.

She says nothing for the stretch of a minute, but then she smiles. It's coy, it's genuine, and it's something.

And Jack knows, in that moment, that everyone's going to be okay.


End file.
